s put in his arms, both he and
she knew that he would never go away again. That evening as they sat
together in the fading light on the veranda of the little house which
Lucy had taken, amid the clambering roses and jasmine, the old fellow
said, "I used to think that I ought to have been killed in battle at the
head of my men when I was shot, but perhaps, I may have been saved to
bring up this young man."

His daughter's smile, as she leant over and kissed him, showed very
clearly what she thought of it, and before a week was out, the Colonel
felt that he was not only still of use, but was, perhaps, the most
necessary, and, with one exception, the most important member of the
family.

Nevertheless, there were hard times before them. The Colonel was too
old-fashioned; too slow for the new movement of life, and just enough
behind the times to be always expecting to succeed and always failing.

But where the father failed the daughter succeeded. She soon came to be
known as one of the efficient women of the community, as her father, who
was now spoken of as "the old Colonel," came to be recognized as one
of the picturesque figures of that period. He was always thought of in
connection with the boy. The two were hardly ever apart, and they were
soon known throughout the town--the tall, thin old gentleman who looked
out on the world with his mild blue eyes and kindly face, and the
chubby, red-cheeked, black-eyed boy, whose tongue was always prattling,
and who looked out with his bright eyes on all the curious things which,
common-place to the world, are so wonderful to a boy.

The friendship between an old man and a little child is always touching;
they grow nearer together day by day, and the old Colonel and little
Oliver soon appeared to understand each other, and to be as dependent on
each other as if they had both been of the same age. The child, somewhat
reserved with others, was bold enough with his grandfather. They held
long discussions together over things that interested the boy; went
sight-seeing in company to where the water ran over an old mill-wheel,
or where a hen and her chickens lived in a neighbor's yard, or a litter
of puppies gamboled under an outhouse, or a bird had her nest and little
ones in a jasmine in an old garden, and Colonel Drayton told the boy
wonderful stories of the world which was as unknown to him as the
present world was to the Colonel.

So matters went, until the Christmas when the b